


Soul Rising

by onecent



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Related, Flash Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 18:24:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4575054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onecent/pseuds/onecent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is saved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soul Rising

Amid the twisted spires and spiked shards that web across the bottomless canyon, one soul, bruised and aching like those around it, glints momentarily brighter. The demons, spotting this shine of hope, swarm the offending soul. They scrabble at it, sinking in venomous claws and teeth, rending one limb after another, sucking out the spot of life. Moments, or perhaps hours, or perhaps eons later, they race off again, skittering across the web in search of their next meal. Their victim, still alive despite the trailing innards and lost appendages, screams out once, twice, and falls silent. Then, atom by atom, the soul reforms, each restitching an agonizing process that will only be undone at the next sign of brightness.

Beyond this, deeper than this, is the actual torture room. Once all the light is gone, souls move down into the cold and dark to be more methodically broken. The demons there are specialists. They search out strengths and fears, skills and nightmares, and twist it all into destruction.

This soul yearns to protect and help others. It dreads becoming that which it once hunted, fears hurting those it once saved. This soul is an easy mark. It wants to be safe, wants to believe that it is saving others. The demons whisper to it, promise safety so long as it will obey, so long as it will torture other souls instead of helping them. They remind it how far it has fallen, how it has already failed, how it has already hurt others. It is already lost. And the soul listens.

The soul once had a name, but it can’t remember. It doesn’t want to remember, because it knows that the named soul would despise the creature it has become. So it forgets, because it has to, and starts to kill itself by destroying others. It works long enough to forget that it was ever cold, to begin to forget that it was ever something else.

A warm light slowly fills the room. The light is black and blue and swelling heat, driving out the cold of hell. The soul, it--no, _he_ , had forgotten what warmth was. He’d forgotten what light was. He’d never known that light could be so soft.

“Dean,” the light says. It is the start of a question, the breath of a wonder. And it reawakens something in the soul. That was him. He was Dean. He tries to speak and answer the light, but he doesn’t know how. Instead he just reaches out to it. A spark of burnished light, impossible in this darkness, already long extinguished, sprints along his length and flies toward the warmth, only to disappear in the darkness.

“Dean.” The light coalesces into a being, magnificent in size, resplendent with color and with a dozen wings unfurled, stretching up into the dark. It reaches out a hand and grabs Dean’s arm. “Do not be afraid.”

Warmth. Heat. Fire. It pours up Dean and reignites the light that had gone out. He is ablaze with light, glowing as hope and life take hold again. He staggers under the sensation, both painful and fantastic. When had he ever felt so good? So complete?

The creature of light beats its wings and they rise, up from the depths of hell. A swarm of demons surrounds them, trying to suck up the light. They tear at the creature’s wings, at its body, trying to tear it down. One grabs hold of Dean, stabbing its claws into him and causing him to pass out. But the creature kicks it away and tucks Dean’s soul up closer into safety. The light being continues to carry him through the breach from hell back to earth. In the light of the new world, the creature’s wings spread out again, bent and disheveled but carried high from the thrill of success. The creature raises its head and calls out, triumphant, “Dean Winchester is saved.”


End file.
